Seven
by Ahoy-Cinderella
Summary: AU-ish / Seven Days of Bensidy.
1. MONDAY

_I'll be there if you want me to_  
_No one else that could ever do  
Got to get some peace in my mind_

_/_

The sound of sirens blaring through the street wakes you, although only slightly. Your brain is fuzzy as you bury your face deeper into the pillow. You feel slightly drunk as your body slowly begins to wake and you feel the soft cotton of her bed sheets swallow you whole, brushing smoothly over your naked frame. Your left eye peeks open, waiting to be blinded by the early morning sunrise that you know shines far too bright through her creamy coloured curtains. You've complained to her before, threatening to cover her window with blankets to keep out the light.

She just laughed and kissed you hard.

Your leg is numb with the weight pressed on it, you realise quickly it's the soft skin of her legs, thrown haphazardly over yours as she lies flat on her back, her head close to yours as she takes up more than half of the bed space.

Movement is not your main priority right now but you know for a fact that her alarm is going to start blaring any minute now and she's going to be cranky as hell. You feel as if you've only slept for an hour when its not actually that far off it, maybe three at most, it wasn't your fault of course, she was the one who suggested you stay the night even though it was a Sunday, it was definitely not your fault…

Okay, maybe it was partly your fault.

You reach over her sleeping frame, carefully grabbing her phone and cancelling the alarm fifteen minutes early. You're awake now, maybe not fully but the fact that the sun is literally hanging outside her window makes it far too bright to fall back asleep anyway.

You hold your weight above her for a moment, -ignoring the slight stab of pain in your chest- taking in her sleeping features before grinning and pressing your mouth to her collarbone that was peeking out from beneath the pale sheets. As you reached her shoulder she shifted beneath you, waking from her heavy sleep.

"Five more minutes, babe" She murmurs with a dream soaked voice, trying to turn herself onto her side, her arms flopping over your waist, trying to take you with her.

You let her.

You let her do anything; it may only have been a couple of months into your 'relationship' -the wonderful secret that the pair of you have kept quiet from prying eyes and gossiping mouths- yet you'd do anything for the brunette who had already captured your swinging brick of a heart.

On her side of the bed, your back to the window, the room doesn't seem as bright and you silently curse knowing that if you close your eyes, the combination of exhaustion and her heavy bed sheets would drown you and she'd be late.

You watch with a smile as her sleep-filled eyes open and quickly close again, shutting out the bright light from the sunrise.

"Told you, you need darker drapes" You lean forward and press your mouth to hers, her soft pink lips break into a smile beneath yours and slowly you meld together, her arms reaching around your neck and waist, pulling you against her warm, sleep burdened frame.

"Shut up" She mumbled, her eyes still closed as you brush her messy, bed hair back from her face.

.

It takes you a few minutes to realise that it's Monday. Without work to keep you on track, your days all meld into one and you can barely tell what day of the year it is without asking someone. A smile slowly spreads across your tired face as you pull your white t-shift over your head; this is the first time you've woken up with her on a Monday.

Monday is the beginning of a new week, its quickly recovering from the weekend, its busy and hectic and usually has you sitting at your desk or undercover somewhere wishing that Friday would roll around warp speed, but not recently. Weekdays for you have become a lonely wander around the city until your lungs ache because you haven't yet been cleared for your usual intense work-out routine, it's grabbing coffee somewhere and sending your girlfriend cheeky texts and replying to your over-worried mother who since the incident has taken to checking up on you every day despite the fact that you are pushing forty-five and know how to look after yourself.

You've never seen her on a Monday morning; you've never really known her weekday morning routine. Sometimes you would meet her at a diner just before eight and you would have a quick breakfast of too much coffee and innuendos that would make her blush and reach over the table to smack you before she'd stand to leave and return to her badass Benson role, the SVU lioness and you'd turn back into the persona you had been told to become -Ganzel's dog body- and sneak away from the booth, winking at her before slipping out the door and back into the underground world that your job had taken you to.

But not now, that was months ago, it was a life of backstabbing and hookers, drugs and gunshots and bleeding out on the street, Olivia gripping your hand with hers and pressing her weight down on your chest to stop the blood from staining the sidewalk.

Now it's quiet date nights, cooking for her when she gets back from work and trying to not overdo things as the bullet wound that covers the left side of your body does its best to heal. It's daily phone calls from your mother checking up on you and your sisters desperate for gossip on who your new girlfriend is and why she's with you, it's glasses of wine and long brunette hair splayed across your lap as she falls asleep half way through the movie she had picked and it's anxiety about the future of your career. A career spanning almost twenty years that now hangs in the balance, swinging limply in front of the police commission as they take their sweet-ass time to decide your fate.

You listen quietly as her voice filters into the bedroom from the adjoining bathroom. You know she's in the shower because you can hear the water hitting the bottom of the tub in uneven flows. She's humming to herself, you vaguely recognise the tune but couldn't even begin to guess the song.

The logical part of your brain knows you should finish getting ready and start making coffee for her while simultaneously trying not think about how she didn't freak out on you this morning, on how you actually stayed over on a work night and she didn't throw you out as soon as she woke this morning. However the other part, the irrational part of your brain, the part that has you acting like a geeky teenage boy who somehow got paired up with the miss America-like, homecoming queen, wants to join her in the shower and make sure she is completely late for work.

Sadly, logic wins.

The bathroom goes silent and the pipes rattle quietly as the shower is turned off, you make your way into her kitchen in your boxers and t-shirt and head straight for the coffee pot. Waiting for the steaming liquid to brew, you wash up the wine glasses that were used the night before and try and not think about the fact that your 'sort of' girlfriend, the woman with whom you've been kinda dating for the last four-ish months is currently standing in the middle of the bedroom naked.

Your back is against the sink, your mouth filled with coffee when she enters the room, her long robe dragging on the floor and her brunette hair, darker than usual hangs in a mess down her back, droplets of water staining the silky material covering her body as she throws you a smile.

"There better be one of those ready for me" She says mid-yawn and nods suggestively at the pale blue mug in your hands and you laugh, pointing towards the counter to your left.

"Of course"

"Hmm, thank you" She whispers as the warm ceramic heats her hands and the caffeine enters her veins, instantly perking her mood up.

"So, what are the plans for you today?" She asks, gulping down another mouthful of coffee.

"Check up with the doc at eleven," You tell her, drinking from your own mug and glancing at the clock that hangs on the wall above the TV "Then I'm gonna go see my mom" You roll your eyes and laugh "She's playing the 'you almost died' guilt card with me"

"She's right" She replies seriously for a second, her dark eyes misting over as she stares at your chest as if you wore a sign over the healing scar that said 'bullet entered here'

"Yeah but I'm not"

"That's not the point" She retaliates almost without taking a breath. "You could've"

"But I didn't" You place the mug by the sink and walk over to her, trapping her body against the counter, your arms on either side of her as the scent of her coconut body lotion and the dark roast coffee drown your senses "You made sure of that"

She glares as you smirk at her and kiss her lips; her free hand goes to your hip and grips the white cotton in her fist. Her tongue pushes into your mouth and you smirk, your hands slowly grip the tie holding her robe together and the sound that escapes her throat hits you straight in the groin.

"I'll be late"

"So…" You take the mug from her hand and hold her face in your hands, your lips pecking hers softly "Be late…"

.

* * *

_review/_

_Lyrics: Monday Morning - Fleetwood Mac_

_Twitter: ahoycinderella_


	2. TUESDAY

_Holding up this fortress_  
_With imaginary forces_  
_Longing for a life down below_

_._

You're sitting on the edge of the bed, your hands weakly grip the edge of the uncomfortable mattress as your eyesight once again begins to blur. Its been one week, one week of lying in a bed, one week of strangers poking and prodding at your chest and arm, one week of heavy medication and not being able to keep your eyes open for longer than twenty minutes never mind pay enough attention to actually hold a conversation.

You were shot on a Tuesday. Last Tuesday to be precise, one week ago today you had two bullets fired into your chest and stomach from a rookie cop trying to make a bit of extra cash on the side.

It had been seven days and your doctor, an older man, you guessed in his late fifties/early sixties with black, greying hair and glasses like that boy wizard from the books that your ten-year-old niece is obsessed with; his voice - that usually sounded like cats stuck in an air vent - sounded like music to your ears yesterday afternoon just after your check up and first appointment with the physical therapist when he said if all was well tomorrow you could be released.

Tomorrow was now today and everything was well which meant hallelujah you're going home.

"You okay?"

Her tender voice breaks your thoughts and your vision blurs slightly again for a second as you turn your head towards her and nod slowly. She doesn't have to be here, you told her at least seventeen times that you could easily get a cab to take you back to your barely lived in apartment. She openly laughed in your face and told you it was no bother to drive you there and help you get settled.

You remember the way her cheeks flushed and her head dropped to look at her shoes as she broke the gaze that was held between the pair of you after she offered. She was embarrassed. She had kissed you one week ago, and quite a few times since but nothing had ever been discussed about the nature of your relationship. You had never talked about anything other than work and idle chit-chat the three times you'd met up outside of working hours in previous weeks, there wasn't much time for chat between the obligatory 'what would you like to drink?' And the quick, yet teasing removal of two sets of clothing.

The undercover stint had now officially ended and the case had been all but closed, all that was left was court appearances as far as you were aware. Yet you were still being watched and were under strict instructions to watch what you said and who to due to some of Ganzel's people being warned about the case or something that you were too doped up on medication to even fully listen or pay attention to. This also meant no visits or calls to family or friends, which made your mother crazy. You had profusely apologised to Olivia for the tone in which your mother had spoken to her, ranting on about how her son could've died and she wasn't allowed to see him. It had taken all of your strength - and the fact that you had bullet holes in your upper body - not to jump on Olivia and thank her for keeping your mother away from you.

You know you're her only son and her youngest child - the baby of the family - but fucking hell; she could be overbearing. If anyone ever needed any situation over exaggerated all they would have to do is phone your mother.

The last thing you wanted was for Olivia to feel like she had to be here, sleeping together three times doesn't equal a relationship, you were both fully aware of that and yet she's here, packing the few belongings you have into a gym bag and waiting for the nurse to return with your discharge papers. She's here, in this hospital room, like she has been everyday since you were admitted, the exhaustion is evident in her face, between working every hour god sends to make sure this case sticks and visiting you in this god forsaken hospital its obvious she's barely had any time for herself and that makes you feel beyond guilty.

"Liv, you know you don't…"

"Bri, if you tell me I don't have to do this one more time, I'm gonna convince that doctor to keep you here another week" She smiles as your face changes, knowing that she probably would.

She already thinks its too early, she hovers over you and asks if you're okay more times than she'd like to admit but you know she's anxious, she witnessed everything. She saw the bullets enter your body, she saw you hit the ground with a heavy thud then watched as the blood seeped from the wounds in your chest and you looked at her with terrified, pleading eyes. She even saw you flat line in the ambulance, something you didn't find out until three nights ago when she quietly whispered it from the chair beside your bed as she held your hand.

"Yeah well, you don't…" She raises her eyebrow at you and you give her a small smile "But thank you, I do appreciate it" You tell her, your voice quiet and slightly slurred.

"Those painkillers have kicked in good, huh?" She chuckles as she folds the last shirt into the bag and zips it closed, lifting it to the chair that she had occupied for the last week.

"Who are you again?" You squint your eyes to look at her as she smiles back at you.

"Ha ha" She replies, taking three steps forward and sitting by your side on the bed. "The nurse should be here soon with your papers then we can go"

You just nod along and stare at the floor, your body feels heavy and light at the same time and you can feel your mind shutting off, these are some strong painkillers you've been prescribed but the main thing is you cant feel the gaping wounds that cover your right side.

Your overactive imagination kicks into high gear as the nurse comes into the room followed moments later by the doctor who is telling Olivia about your medication and it's side affects and what to watch out for when you get home.

You can't even think that far, your mind goes into overdrive and anxiety floods your veins as you imagine the worst possible scenario; is Ganzel going to have hired someone else to shoot you as you walk through the double doors of the hospital? Drive by maybe? Hell maybe you're already dying and the haziness isn't from the medication but the doctor is actually one of Ganzel's buddies and he's tried to poison you so by the time you actually die no one would be able to tell it was him or maybe Liv's turned to the dark side and the only reason she offered to drive you is because she's actually planning to…

Okay now you _definitely_ know your imagination has gotten the better of you. You've never known Olivia to harm anyone unless it was self-defence, or the causal slap to a perp.

"Bri…" You look up and find her standing in front of you, concern gracing her features as she tries to find the light behind your eyes, any indication to let her know you can actually hear her.

"Yeah, sorry I just…drifted I guess" You apologise and try to stand only to feel the shooting pain in your upper body. Olivia obviously hears the groans of pain and can see from your expression that it hurts and she drops the gym bag with your belongings in an instant and somehow gently yet firmly grabs your arms to help you up.

The nurse re-enters the room just then with a wheelchair and you glance between her and the brunette who's currently holding you upright.

"Aw hell no, I'm not getting in a chair…"

"Bri…"

"I'm sorry Mr Cassidy but it's hospital policy" The small, older woman replies as she smiles and pats the back of the chair.

You look at Olivia, pleading with her to help you but she just chuckles and shakes her head. For a few seconds you hate her, or rather you feel the need to at least jokingly hate her as she guides you over to the chair and grins as she speaks, her voice light and cheerful, and as you know so well, full of sarcasm.

"Now, Mr Cassidy, we can't have you ignoring hospital policy"

* * *

_Lyrics: Citadel - Anna Nalick_

_Twitter: ahoycinderella_


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